My Babies and Me (21 page)

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Authors: Tara Taylor Quinn

BOOK: My Babies and Me
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And when, less than half an hour later, he heard the first cry of his newborn child, he was afraid to turn around, to claim for his own the joy that awaited him. How on earth did he deserve to be there? What right did he have to accept the bounty he'd fought so hard?
“Aha,” the doctor said, sounding pleased. Michael saw Susan pulling forward, her chin to her chest, as she strained to see. “Your daughter's the oldest,” Dr. Goodman told them.
“She doesn't have a name!” Susan said, and burst into tears.
“Shhh. We'll name her, Sus, just as soon as you finish here. We can do it together,” Michael said, glad to have something to do, to distract him from the miracle taking place around him.
“Here, daddy, why don't you hold your daughter while Susan and I work on getting that little guy out here.”
The worry in Susan's eyes as she watched him gave Michael the strength to turn around, to reach out his arms to that tiny, messy bundle, and bring her close to his heart. The oddest sensation came over
him, filling his entire being, until the pressure built behind his eyes. He had no idea he was crying until the first drop slid out onto his face. Hadn't, until that moment, known he was capable.
Less than ten minutes later, Susan held their son against her, exactly as Michael still cradled their daughter. Her gaze moving from little Zack—she was going to have to explain that one—to his precious little no-name, her eyes finally came to rest on Michael. And with that look she made silent promises of love and a future filled with greatness. A future he knew would be grander, fuller, than any he could imagine.
“You see, Michael?” she whispered. “Life offers so much more than mere contentment. If you live right, and you're very, very lucky, you get happiness, too.”
She always was the smartest woman he'd ever known.
EPILOGUE
“DAEY SHIT, daey shit!”
With one hand plastered over his daughter's mouth, Michael sat. And found himself on the floor in the front of the biggest Christmas tree he'd ever seen. Using him as a stepstool, which Michael was sure was the intention, Rosemary climbed onto his lap and reached up to get the lighted Santa ornament she'd been after since they'd arrived at his parents' home that morning, the morning of Christmas Eve.
“What did she say?” Mary came running in from the kitchen, her apron smeared with flour and pumpkin-pie filling and Michael had no idea what else.
“She told me to sit down, Mom,” he said, bobbing the child up and down on his knee, hoping to keep her quiet, at least until there were no witnesses. And keep her grabby fingers away from the lighted tree at the same time.
Mary laughed, a full-bellied, honestly happy laugh. “I knew Susan would teach her right.”
Laughter erupted from the kitchen. Susan and Laura eavesdropping, he was sure.
The Kennedy household was filled with smart-mouthed women, the mouthiest one of all being his year-old-daughter, Rosemary, named after both her grandmothers. Zack toddled over, grabbing a fistful
of Michael's sleeve with a hand smeared with drool and the rest of an oatmeal cookie his grandmother had given him.
He grunted. And then grunted again, eyeing his sister with purpose. He wanted his share of his daddy's lap. But, as always, Rosemary had beat him to it. The poor guy never got a word in edgewise. Which explained why Rosemary's vocabulary was approaching more than a hundred words. And Zack could grunt.
Laughter erupted from the kitchen again just as Rosemary connected with a cross-stitched ornament and yanked. Needles sprayed across the huge piles of presents beneath the tree. Branches rocked. Michael held his breath.
Rosemary held up the ornament with a proud grin.
“Uncle Michael! Uncle Michael!” Jenny, bundled up in her winter coat and snow pants, cheeks red from the cold, came tearing into the room.
Michael turned just in time to catch the child with his semifree hand as she hurtled herself against his back. “We're home!” the child cried. “I get to watch Zack and Rosemary now.”
“They're all yours.” He handed his daughter carefully to the eager girl.
“How was the sledding?” he asked Seth and Jeremy as they followed Jenny into the room.
“Here, let me get him,” Jeremy said, hurrying over to take Zack from his sister. “You hold her.”
She gave in, but only because she couldn't possibly carry both of them, Michael suspected. Carefully, Jenny handed over one of her cherished cargo.
“Sledding was great.” Pulling off his gloves, Seth
stopped beside the tree that dwarfed the Kennedys' living room.
“Yeah,” Jeremy said, aiming the words over one shoulder. “Uncle Brady came over and brought Paul, and Paul showed me the coolest trick. We made it all the way down the hill on our shoulders, both of us on one sled.”
Raising his brows he looked to Seth for confirmation—and for verification that his brother-in-law hadn't lost his mind allowing the boys to take such a risk.
“I tried it first,” Seth defended himself, shrugging his shoulders. “Once you've got your balance, there's nothing to it”
“Except breaking your neck,” Michael muttered. He'd been remarried to Susan for more than a year—remarried to her and divorced from his work—and he still wasn't used to the Carmichael physical prowess. He'd known they were highly athletic. He just hadn't realized there was no sport they couldn't conquer. It was only one of the things he'd missed learning the first time around. He'd found many more over the past year. Things he'd been too busy working to notice before. Like the fact that his wife liked to wallow in bubble baths for hours. She read something nonfiction every day, too.
And her father was addicted to chocolate.
“How's Paul doing?” Michael asked softly as Jenny and Jeremy led the babbling Rosemary and grunting Zack down the hall to the playroom.
“Good.” Seth looked satisfied as he shrugged out of his coat. The boy had left Brady's group home for disadvantaged kids a few months before. “He's living
with his grandparents, taking to his new school, even made the junior varsity basketball team.”
“Jeremy still following him around like a lost puppy?”
Seth grinned. “Every chance he gets.”
Silently watching the fire flickering in the fireplace across the room, Michael couldn't help but admire his brother-in-law. Seth had done it all. Married Laura, become a great father to her kids, kept his job, and he still found the time to see the kid he'd volunteered with the previous year, when he'd been estranged from Laura and her kids.
“So you really shut down the office for the week?” Seth asked, joining Michael on the floor. He lay on his side, head propped on one hand.
“Yep.”
Seth stared at Michael, lifted Michael's hand. “Hold it there,” he said, letting go in midair.
Holding his hand out in front of him as instructed, Michael stared at his brother-in-law. “Why?”
“You're not shaking,” Seth said, as though he were a doctor searching for a diagnosis. “You been drinking?”
“No!” Michael laughed and dropped his hand.
“You're sitting still, doing nothing, no bobbing knees or jittery joints. I'd say that means you're relaxed!” Seth crowed, and then, just as quickly he grew serious. “I'm glad.”
“Yeah, me too.” All in all, the year 2000 had been one of the best yet.
Getting up to put another log on the fire, Seth asked, “So how's business?”
“Great. Better than I projected.”
“You might think about hiring some help.”
Stretching, Michael moved onto his back looking up at the tree. “I'm way ahead of you,” he said. “I have a new writer starting the first of the year.”
“Can I get you boys anything to eat? It'll be another couple of hours before Christmas Eve dinner.” Mary bustled into the room.
“I'm fine, Mom,” Michael said, wondering if he'd be able to slip in a little nap while the women finished up in the kitchen. His dad wasn't due back from the station for another hour.
“Susan just talked to her dad. He's home from Florida and he'll be coming with Spencer and Scott and their families for dinner tomorrow,” Mary reported happily. With his sisters and brother and their families, that would make twenty-five for Christmas dinner. Mary was so ecstatic, Michael wondered what was keeping her feet on the ground.
“Dad's back?” Seth asked. “How'd he do in the tournament?” The elder Carmichael had joined a senior PGA tour the previous spring.
“Placed eleventh,” Susan called from the kitchen.
“Did you remember to bring his present, Seth?” Laura asked, joining them in the living room. She lowered herself gingerly into an armchair and settled back as though she'd like never to get up again.
“I did,” Seth said. He crawled over and laid his head against his wife's very extended belly. “How's daddy's little girl?” he asked in baby talk.
“She's daddy's girl, all right,” Laura grumbled good-naturedly. “She's been kicking field goals most of the afternoon. It's just too bad daddy isn't the one to field them.”
Everyone laughed, including Michael. This was what he'd cashed in his old identity for. The true riches. He thanked God every day that he'd found out in time what they were.
 
MUCH LATER that night, Michael pulled Susan close as she snuggled beside him in his old bedroom in the attic.
“You think they're down for the night?” he whispered.
“Sure of it. They're exhausted.”
They weren't the only ones, but exhaustion had never felt so good.
“Michael?”
“Hmm?”
“We can tell each other anything, can't we?”
Michael stiffened. Was there trouble in paradise? Had he missed something? She wasn't finding life as perfect as he was? Maybe working from home wasn't enough for her anymore.
“I've always thought so,” he answered slowly.
“Good.”
Was that it, then? She'd just needed reassurance? A confirmation of what they'd become to each other over the past year?
“I'm going to have another baby.”
Michael flew out of the bed. Was actually standing naked beside it before déjà vu set in.
“Are we talking about a baby that already exists or is this one of those in-the-future things?”
Leaning on one elbow, she peered at him through the darkness. “In the future.”
Relief washed over him, and Michael sank back
down to the bed. As much as he hated to tell her no, ever, he knew what he had to do. “I don't think it's a good id
a, Sus.” He'd ease into it; maybe she wouldn't take the news as hard.
“Of course it's a good idea.” She sat up. “Look how blessed we've been with Rosemary and Zack. How could we possibly not want more of that?”
“Our house is a mess most of the time, we've gone for days and days without having sex, we're both tired a lot, and neither one of us is as well-dressed as we used to be. Hell, I went to work with bananas smeared on my sleeve the other morning.”
“My house was never clean, sex is all the more incredible for the wait, we were tired when we worked fourteen hours a day, and who cares if my eyeliner's a little crooked now and then?” She paused. He could see her brow furrow even in the darkness. “Oh, and the bananas.” She paused again, thinking. “A built-in morning snack!”
“I'm serious, Susan,” Michael said, afraid to see her risk another pregnancy. She'd made it through the last one; why did they have to take any more chances? “You'd be forty-two by the time it was born.”
“Yeah?” she challenged. “So?”
“I'm worried about you. Another pregnancy could wear you out. Not to mention midnight feedings all over again.”
Susan leaned down until she was lying against him, her generous breasts pushing against his chest. “It'll be a piece of cake,” she said, kissing him lingeringly. “After those two, I can handle feedings in my sleep.”
She kissed him again, and Michael forgot why her words were nonsense. He forgot everything except
how very much he loved her. How thankful he was that she'd waited for him to come to his senses and bind himself to her completely and forever.
And as they slowly, naughtily, brought in the joyous holiday, he made his first installment on another blessed event. He didn't know why he'd even bothered arguing.
Surely he'd learned by now that when Susan put her mind to something, she always got her way.

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